


the answers to the universe

by PrincessReinette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen, mentions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessReinette/pseuds/PrincessReinette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It took Dean three times to get the latch to open; years of disuse had left it rusty and nearly inoperable. He finally managed to get it undone and suddenly all the memories were in the open."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the answers to the universe

The box had been left unopened for years.

Dean wasn’t sure what exactly had led him to pull it out now, today, of all days, but he had, and now the dull wood exterior was mocking him from his desk. Over the years, Dean had done his best to forget the box existed at all; with his father and brother around, he didn’t exactly have the privacy to go through its contents. But now he had his own room, and Sam was in the next town over trying to find a “decent” library, and Dean Winchester was all alone.

Tossing his flask down onto the bed, Dean pushed himself up and made his way over to the desk. With shaking hands, he held the box gently, fingers running over the faint lines that were a subtle reminder of where the box had come from. It took Dean three times to get the latch to open; years of disuse had left it rusty and nearly inoperable. He finally managed to get it undone and suddenly all the memories were in the open.  

Dean took a deep breath to try and settle himself.

It didn’t work.

He sat down heavily in the desk chair, clutching the box tightly. The box found its place on the desk again, and Dean stared hard at the objects spilling out of it. Uncertainly, he plucked the first of them from the box and studied it. The people in the photograph were nearly entirely disfigured by the melted material, but Dean could faintly make out his father, younger and more carefree than Dean ever remembered seeing him, his mother, glowing in the haze of motherhood, and a tiny version of himself, barely two years old. Dean could feel the tears prickling hot behind his eyelids but shook them away; there was too much left to go through.

The picture was gently laid on the desktop and Dean reached next for the tiny metal baby’s rattle. He had no idea how that, of all things, had made it through the fire nearly unharmed, but he was incredibly grateful it had. Dean had dim memories of a young Sammy clutching it in his tiny fists, studying it as though the answers to the entire universe were hidden in the tiny engravings.

An old broach made its way out next, one his mother had hated, of course, but the only piece of her jewelry to make it out unscarred. He took the rest of the objects out tenderly, one at a time, and let himself experience the long repressed emotions in as much entirety as he could muster. When the box was finally empty, the contents spread around it, Dean covered his face with his hands and wept.

Eventually he calmed himself and began replacing the objects, lovingly arranging them so they wouldn’t be easily jostled. When he was finished, he slid the box into a space in a dresser drawer and covered it with socks and underwear. It wasn’t the most secure spot, but he couldn’t bring himself to put it back in the trunk of the Impala.

He knew that one day he would have to share the box with Sam, and that he would be furious for keeping it to himself for as long as he had, but for now, the box was Dean’s and Dean’s alone. He sighed, took one last deep breath, and went to see if Sam had left him any of yesterday’s pie.   


End file.
